


Endearing

by leeds



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Drarry, Enemies to Lovers, Ficlet, Fluff, Getting Together, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, draco is a changed man, harry has a sexuality crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 09:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19354141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leeds/pseuds/leeds
Summary: Ever since Malfoy came out, Harry has been having a sexuality crisis. Harry faces his feelings and allows himself to be swept off his feet.Written while listening to Valley's "MAYBE - Side B" EP





	Endearing

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first crack at a drarry fic because I love them xx

Harry had a problem.

Harry could not stop thinking about Malfoy.

Ever since Malfoy came out—which was, _Merlin_ , which was more than surprising to just about everyone—Harry had been having a sexuality crisis. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t because of Malfoy himself but because Harry had never thought about his sexuality before and it was a shock to look inwardly and see that he was anything but straight. He had thought back to every romantic experience he’d had and realized that none of his relationships ever worked out because his heart was never really with those he tried to be with. Instead of focusing on them, he obsessed over Malfoy—

Bollocks.

He obsessed over Malfoy because they were _enemies_ and Malfoy was out to get him—except he wasn’t. When Harry thought about it, Malfoy could’ve been so much worse, but he was just a bully. He said mean things about him and his friends, but Malfoy lied to protect him at the Manor, for Merlin’s sake (there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that Malfoy recognized him). If they were really enemies, Malfoy would have given him away and led him to his death. Harry knew that, which is why he spoke in his favor at his trial.

No, Malfoy didn’t want him dead, Harry was sure of it. What did people say about bullies? That they bullied others because their home life was toxic? There was no doubt in Harry’s mind that life at the Manor wasn’t ideal.

Harry found his hate for Malfoy dissipating, and he wondered if he ever truly hated him at all.

What was troubling was that his feelings of hate were replaced by…other feelings.

Harry now allowed himself to look at the boy with the light blond hair, and it felt as though he had never truly looked at him before. During classes he noticed Malfoy’s quirks, like the way he closed his eyes and tapped on the desk as if a song was playing in his head. Harry wondered what music he listened to.

Harry noticed other things, too, like how he was really very intelligent. Before, Harry thought he was at the top of the class with Hermione because he cheated or had the smartest Slytherins do all his work for him, but he truly knew the answers to _everything._ It took him barely a second to think a question over. He was an absolute genius.

Harry’s favorite thing about Malfoy (not that he had a list going or anything) was that he sketched when he was bored. He drew birds in the margins of his books. It was quite endearing—oh, _Merlin._ Endearing? Did Harry actually find this ex-Death Eater _endearing_? (Harry knew he was forced into it, but still.) He was going mad, surely.

He _was_ mad, Harry thought, when he woke up one morning with a hard-on and let his mind drift to the curve of Malfoy’s jawline and his perfectly manicured fingers. One imagined picture of those fingers wrapped around him, and Harry came with a combined feeling of shame and relief.

When Harry told Ron and Hermione about his problem, they weren’t as shocked as he expected. They were immediately accepting of him and his feelings toward Malfoy, as they had seen with their own eyes that he wasn’t the bully he used to be. In fact, he had actually pulled Hermione aside within their first month back and apologized for his prejudice against her.

“He sounded sincere, and everything made sense, you know?” Hermione explained to them. “He can’t take back what he said, but he recognizes how brainwashed he was by his family and is striving to be a better person.”

“And you believe him?” Ron asked.

“I do,” Hermione said, and turned to Harry. She looked him in the eyes before smiling and looking away. She cleared her throat and continued. “Sorry, it’s hard to take this seriously. So you think that maybe you have a crush on Draco?” Harry flushed and looked to see if the group of Hufflepuff girls sitting at the table over was listening to their conversation. He caught one of the girl’s eyes for a second before she quickly looked down. Harry gulped.

“When did we start calling him ‘Draco’?” Ron asked, and Hermione glared at her boyfriend.

Harry’s hands shook. He was afraid of answering Hermione’s question, though he knew the answer.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” Harry whispered shakily.

“Well, maybe you should talk to him,” Hermione suggested.

Harry looked over to where Draco sat alone to find that Draco was already looking at him. He froze, and for the first time, Harry saw a blush rise to Draco’s pale cheeks. Harry couldn’t help but smile.

Harry rose to his feet.

“Harry…?” Ron asked.

“I didn’t mean now—” Hermione began to say, but Harry started to walk over to Draco anyway.

“Brave,” Harry heard Ron mutter under his breath before he couldn’t hear them anymore.

Harry wasn’t brave, he was just impulsive. And maybe a little stupid.

After what felt like an hour’s journey to Draco’s table but what was probably less than 30 seconds, he sat across from the Slytherin, who had watched him the whole way over.

“Hello, Draco,” Harry said, maintaining eye contact.

“Hello…Harry,” Draco said tentatively. His brows were furrowed, but his grey eyes were not cold like they used to be. His expression was one of curiosity, not contempt.

Harry was about to speak, but Draco beat him to the punch.

“Is this about you watching me during class?” Draco asked. Harry’s eyes widened and he spluttered, his cheeks burning. Draco smiled, which made Harry even more flustered. Harry could barely handle looking at Draco in class from a few tables over, so being this close to him was overwhelming. His pupils must be the size of the moon in order to let in all of the boy in front of him.

Draco rested his chin on his fist, waiting for Harry to pull himself together. Harry was surprised at how patient he had become.

Harry cleared his throat. “It is about that, yeah.” Draco smiled again.

“I’ve never been admired before,” Draco said, and there was no malice behind his smirk. “I wouldn’t have thought in a million years that Harry Potter would be the one doing the admiring.”

“I’m as confused as you are.”

“Confused is the right word,” Draco laughed, and then lowered his voice. “I thought you were straight?”

“I thought you were, too. That is, until you…”

“Until I wasn’t,” Draco said. He looked amused. “I was never straight. I never pretended to be, though.”

“I thought you were with Pansy—”

“Just because I took Pansy to one ball, that does not mean we were together.”

Harry nodded and looked back up into those cool, striking grey eyes.

“Now why are you here?”

“Er, I was wondering if we could, I don’t know, see each other sometime?”

“See each other? You mean, as in date?”

“Yeah, I guess?” Harry scratched the back of his head.

“You guess?”

“Merlin, Draco,” Harry sighed, knowing Draco meant to be annoying. “Yes. I want to see you and talk to you and know you for _Draco_ not _Malfoy._ ”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Harry,” Draco said, and held out his hand. Harry took it. Draco's hand was warm and soft. Harry felt his warmth run through him. “Meet me at the Quidditch pitch after dinner tonight.”

Harry could do nothing but nod.

“I like your new glasses, by the way,” Draco said before rising to his feet and slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder. He winked at Harry before turning and walking out of the Great Hall.

Harry lifted his hand to his gold wire-rim glasses, and thought that maybe he wasn’t the only one doing the admiring. The realization brought a smile to his face, and he hurried back to Ron and Hermione to tell them about his interaction with Draco.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*

Harry was a bundle of nerves leading up to dinner. He could barely eat. Hermione forced meat and potatoes on him, reminding him disturbingly of Molly Weasley.

When he saw Draco leave, he hurried after him and tried to ignore Ron and Hermione telling him to ‘be safe’ and ‘use protection!’—it was doing nothing for his nerves. He’d barely done anything with anyone, and the prospect of him doing _something_ with Draco made his stomach flip.

Harry stopped at the eighth year dormitories to change out of his robes and into a thick sweater to keep the end-of-fall cold out. He may have changed into tighter pants, too.

When he got to the Quidditch pitch, Draco was standing in the middle of the field with a broom in his hand—and were those normal Muggle clothes? They were, indeed, Harry observed, and they looked amazing on him. Draco zipped up his bomber jacket as Harry approached him.

“Wow,” Harry said when he got to him. Draco’s lips lifted up in a smile. “I didn’t think you owned Muggle clothes.”

“I didn’t, until I moved to Muggle London. I’m also trying this thing called not being a dick and getting over my past prejudices.”

“You moved out of the Manor?”

“Had to,” Draco simply said, and Harry nodded in understanding. If he was Draco, he wouldn’t want to stay either. The memory of Voldemort lived in those vast rooms and every dark corner. “Anyway, I was thinking we could go for a ride?” Draco asked, holding up the broom.

“I didn’t bring my broom—” Draco rolled his eyes with a sigh and swung a leg over his broom.

“Hop on, Golden Boy.”

Harry stood there for a beat, looking at Draco’s back. Draco turned to give him a look that said _come on._

So Harry hopped on.

Draco took off suddenly, and Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist before he flew off.

“Scared, Potter?” Draco asked as the wind whipped at their faces.

“You wish,” Harry replied, and held him tighter as they ascended.

Draco flew at a pace that wasn’t too fast but which was still exhilarating. He flew them over the Forbidden Forest, which didn’t look as scary as they knew it was when it was bathed in orange light from the sunset. The forest had held so many hidden monstrosities and bad memories, and it felt liberating to be above it all, together.

Harry rested his head on Draco’s shoulder and gripped onto his jacket. He thought for a moment that he would be reprimanded for wrinkling it, but Draco didn’t say a word. Instead of being rigid, he was warm and the silence between them was comfortable.

Their descent made Harry’s heart sink. He wished they could stay up there forever.

Draco landed them on a grassy hill on the school grounds, and he rested back on the damp grass, so Harry settled next him, propping himself up on an elbow to look at the blonde. He’d grown into his long limbs and was the picture of elegance. His hair glistened in the last of the day’s light, and Harry thought he was beautiful.

Draco looked back at him, and all seemed still. He propped himself up as well, so that his face was only a couple inches from Harry’s. His eyes flicked to Harry’s lips, and Harry thought he could hear Draco’s heart beating.

Harry’s eyes looked down to where Draco’s sleeve had ridden up, and he saw the faded black of his dark mark. He reached out to touch the inky skin, but Draco jerked away from him. Harry's reflexes kicked in, catching Draco’s arm and bringing it back to rest between them.

“Don’t,” Harry said, looking into Draco’s scared eyes. Draco watched as Harry rolled his sleeve up further, and heard the small gasp from Harry’s lips, but he didn’t move away. Draco searched Harry’s face for a reaction.

Harry’s wide eyes took in the sight of Draco’s arm. He was shocked to see a white scar over his dark mark, in the shape of a lightning bolt. He looked up into Draco’s eyes.

“I went through a rough patch right after the war—” Draco began to explain, but Harry’s lips met his, and they kissed as the sun fell beneath the horizon, Draco flat against the ground, his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry slipped his hand under Draco’s sweater and felt the searing, porcelain skin of his tight stomach.

They kissed slowly in the twilight, savoring every moment.

Draco pulled their lips apart.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked.

“Of course,” Harry answered.

“I never hated you. Ever,” Draco admitted. “I wanted to be your friend more than anything. When you didn’t want to be mine, it broke my eleven-year-old heart.”

“Draco—”

“Wait, there’s more. I know I was a prick, and that’s why you didn’t want anything to do with me, and I’m sorry.”

“Draco,” Harry said softly. “I forgive you.”

“You do?”

Harry nodded and pushed back Draco’s perfect hair. “Do you forgive me?”

“For what?”

“For breaking your heart,” Harry said, smiling. Draco smiled back, and looked at Harry’s lips.

“I don’t think it’s broken anymore,” he said, and pulled Harry down into a kiss before pulling away again. “Now let’s head back. It’s cold and my bed is much warmer.”

 

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! comments & kudos are appreciated!


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